Thursday, September 6, 2012

Labor Day Weekend opens our Hockey Season. Some may recall that a certain rule - delineated
by the Potomac River - determines which team our kids can play on this year. So, this past weekend, north and south (TeamMaryland {TM} and Washington Little Caps {WLC}) met at the preseason opener in
our old home rink with our boys facing off against each other for the first
time.

New teams mean new guidelines, including dress codes. Team Maryland is required to show up in
“appropriate attire” which The Maven finds a bit silly and translates to Z-E-R-O
when it comes to the actual playing of the game. But hey, go along to get along. The Maves’ husband got his Breezers in a
bunch about the requirement and thundered:
“If I wanted to send my son to
charm school, well, I’D A' DONE THAT!”

Thankfully the code doesn’t extend to headwear. An Ohio team showed up looking to
successorize in black berets. Now, it’s
one thing when you have fully grown men with stern looks, chiseled jaws and
broad shoulders wearing berets in the Special Forces…but 11 year olds with soft-skinned
faces and boyish grins in varying stages of orthodontic treatment? Well, they look more like they’re from the
Renoir School of Hockey.

Not. Cool.

Anyhoo, this weekend was less about the hockey and more
about the socializing. Sadly, Miller Mom and The Mave totally dropped the ball when it came to battle readiness. To be honest, The Mave experienced great
discomfiture when a certain email circulated before the weekend discussing
“rules” regarding alcohol consumption on Rink property. Call it a guilty conscience if you will, but
at first glance The Mave thought the email was sent only to Her and cc’d to the rest of the team.

Luckily none of the WLC parents received that email. And lemme tell you what.

THEY CAME PREPARED.

Chairs and tents are a tipoff for a solid tailgate
organization but the Washington Little Caps parents have established the new
rubric. The Maven arrived to the
triturating hum of this:

Hell yeah!

Busily building a batch of Margaritas is a dad whom we’ll
call, um, “Mr. Cuervo.” His portable machine crushes ice with the
power of an Asplundh wood chipper and whirls up a smooth consistency drink
every time. The Mave's convinced it's
hooked up to a car battery.

And while Mr. Cuervo is on beverage duty another WLC dad is
tending the BBQ…but not your run-of-the-mill-portable-tailgate-jobber. Nuh-uh.
“Mr. Kingsford” is lovingly
tending his sirloin tips on one of these:

Yup. That’s a
permanent hitch to his pickup.

Now, I don’t care who you are or where you come from, that
there demonstrates a whole other level of tailgate commitment.

The partying did much to soothe the, still open, flesh
wounds leftover from the River rules’ separation of our once unified team. And it’s certainly a life-affirming
experience to know that good friends remain good friends even when you’re not on the same roster.

So, Major Props to our pals on the other side of the
Potomac. Yallz brought the true meaning
of Christmas to us this weekend with your amazing whiz-bang-gizmo-tailgating-gear! See you at the Rinks!!